


From the Ashes | Harry Potter

by fatecanberewritten



Series: Stars [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M, Gen, M/M, Marauders' Era, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:03:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatecanberewritten/pseuds/fatecanberewritten
Summary: “How are we supposed to fight, then? These are people who set out every day to kill us and thousands of innocents - why should we not try to stop them in anyway we can?”“Because a good portion of these people are kids. For all we know, half of these people could be under the Imperius Curse. And ultimately, because they are still people.”





	From the Ashes | Harry Potter

       “So,” started Professor Slughorn, tapping the glass of his famous hourglass. Not many knew what it did, but it was not uncommon whatsoever to see the professor glancing over at it during the private conversations he had with students and even other professors, as if he were checking to see if something was working. That morning, the sand of the hourglass was running slower than usual, clocking in his conversations as relatively stimulating, as expected. This day, Slughorn was dedicated to his fifth years, helping them figure out just what it was they wanted to do when their time at Hogwarts came to an end. “What job do you wish to set out for, my dear?”

       She had been only six years old when she knew what it was she wanted to pursue - she had been only six years old when the curiosity and determination truly set in. 

       With at least eight feet of water between her and her one chance at life, Myrina Picquery thought that she wouldn’t ever again see the light of day, let alone her seventh birthday, only a week away. Up above, her family had tried everything to save her, but not even their very powerful magic seemed to reach her. It had been her own, uncontrollable magic that was common in many children that seemed to pull her down into the depths of the Gulf of Mexico, and with the amount of time she had been below the waves, it would have seemed that Myrina was a lost cause. 

       Her family was a very tightly knit one, bound by a sense of love for one another that was almost unmatched, and there was no way that any of them would let Myrina go without a fight. 

       The first face that was close enough for her to see was that of her Uncle Dexter, his slightly deformed hand reaching out to grab hold of hers, but it seemed that just as he was about to grab onto her, she was pulled further into the depths of the Gulf. 

       Uncle Dexter was quickly followed by her Aunt Skye, a woman who spent so much of her time in the water that Myrina was convinced that she was part merperson. But even she, diving much further down than her brother, could not reach her niece.

       Myrina struggled against her own seemingly self-destructive magic, but it seemed to be no use. She was so far under that the midday sun was almost completely blocked out.  _ This is it,  _ she thought. She was going to die there from her own cruel magic, before she even had the opportunity in life to begin to control it. She was six years old.

       Beginning to black out, Myrina hardly even noticed the firm grip on her wrist. When she finally seemed to break the surface of the water, it was as if she had been reborn, welcomed into a new world that she knew would be different from her last. The first face she saw was that of her father.

       “Rina,” he gasped, holding her so tightly that she could hardly breath again as Uncle Dexter and Aunt Skye pulled them to the dock, where her mother crouched, Myrina's brothers in her arms, crying out in relief at her daughter’s safe return. “Rina, I got you,” her father continued. She could not tell if the liquid on his face was water, or tears. “I got you.”

       The second time she knew, Myrina had just turned nine. 

       “Is Mamma gonna die?” asked Mason, her brother, who was only five at the time. Myrina was the eldest of the Picquery clan, so it only made sense that, when their parents were not around, her brothers would turn to her for answers to the difficult questions.

       “Of course not, Mas,” Myrina answered with a sense of confidence that easily fooled Mason, but Simon, the middle child, saw right through it. Myrina looked away from him. “Mamma would never leave us.”

       Michelle Picquery had contracted a magical disease so rare that it had only been seen one other time in the magical medical field. That person, a wizard in Poland, survived less than a week. Her chances were slim, and everyone knew it.  

       Prior to their mother’s illness, the Picquery children had plans to travel to Florida with their grandparents to see the launching of a No-Maj spacecraft that was said to have the capability to land on the moon. It was a historical moment that everyone had been looking forward to for months, and after one hospital visit, their plans had been tarnished.

       “I’m so sorry to be taking them away from you.” The conversation was a private one between her mother and her Nana Vicky, and though she knew she was intruding, Myrina could not tear herself away.

       “Nonsense,” responded her Nana, looking to her mother as if she had just offended her. “You could never take them away from me, Michelle. Distance has no effect on the love of family. Who’d know that better than you?”

       That day, the family was moving to England, where her mother was born, and where her mother’s family, who she had hardly spoken of until she had become ill, resided. 

       Though the Louisiana heat was close to unbearable, the entirety of the Picquery family stood in the yard of their estate, bidding teary goodbyes to Drake, Michelle, and the kids. Michelle stood out among them, and not only because she sat in a wheelchair in the middle of the group. Her skin was pale to their dark, her hair blonde to their black, her eyes blue to their brown. She had always looked different from the rest of them, but that had never been a problem. Michelle was a welcomed addition to the Picquery family, and they bid her goodbye with the same amount of love. After all, they all knew this would be the last time they would see her.

       Michelle had been too weak for any sort of magical transportation, so the family of five found themselves on a No-Maj plane headed to No-Maj London, seated in the back despite having tickets in the first few rows. Myrina sat in the window seat of the back row, watching with Simon in hope to see Apollo 11’s takeoff from the sky. 

       “I wish we could be there,” muttered Simon. Myrina turned to look first at her brother, and then to her mother, who was watching the pair with tears in her eyes. Simon appeared to have not known what he had said, or at least not the weight of it, until he, too, looked to their mother. 

       At this point, tears were streaming down her face, but she smiled as she held out a scale model of the Apollo 11 aircraft that she had gotten for nearly fifteen dollars at the airport. Simon kept glancing from the rocket, to his mother, his jaw slacked and quivering. “I - ” she started, having to close her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. “I’m so sorry that I stopped you all from seeing it - ”

       “Mom - ” Myrina stepped in.

       “I’m so sorry that I’m taking you away from your home - ”

       “Mamma - ” Simon cut in, his voice much higher than usual, a dead giveaway that he was crying.

       “I just have to make things right. I have to before I - ”

       Michelle finally stopped when her two oldest embraced her, the both of them as teary eyed as their mother.

       “We love you so much, Mom,” cried Myrina. Simon echoed her. “We’d follow you anywhere.”

       Myrina didn’t know what her mother meant when she said she had to make things right, but she expected to find out the moment they landed in London. Nothing really set in, though, until the family had arrived to the Norton Estate, where Michelle had grown up, where she had escaped from, and where she had chosen to returned to when Death himself acted as her shadow. This family was much larger than the one Myrina had in America, and immediately, she felt like an intruder.

       Just like the time she had nearly drowned, Myrina was reborn in this moment, into a much harsher, stranger world. But she would endure it, if only to see the smile on her mother’s face as she reconnected with her father and siblings. She loved her mother dearly, and for her, her father, brothers, and herself would adapt to this new life.

       The third time she knew, Myrina Picquery was twelve.

       The Polish wizard who shared her mother’s magical medical condition had lasted barely four days after his diagnosis. Michelle Picquery survived nearly four years fighting this disease.

       Myrina held a bouquet of amaryllis, her mother’s favorite flowers, a spell casted by her father protecting the group from the raging blizzard that surrounded them. Her father’s hand rested on her shoulder as they watched their mother’s casket lower into the snowy ground. Tears clouded her eyes, but Myrina stood there in silent awe. Her mother had survived three and a half years with a disease that should have killed her in a matter of days. 

       Those three and a half years had not been easy. For Michelle, they were full of pain that went beyond physical, as for the longest time, only her father and younger brother accepted and forgave her for what whatever it was she did. Eventually, her older brother came around, but it was her only sister, who Michelle had been closest with in her childhood, that refused to give Michelle the peace she so desired.

       Today, in the dead of winter, Michelle’s father, Trevor, her brothers, Colin and Brooks and all of their families, watched as Michelle was laid to rest beside her mother and her eldest brother. She would have been happiest to see Christa, her beloved sister, nearly collapsing in sorrow as she stood over her sister’s grave. 

       “I’m so sorry,” Christa sobbed, staring at the headstone of her sister. Her husband held her up, but she paid him no attention. “I forgive you! I’m so, so sorry.”

       Myrina did not know what had happened between her mother and her extended family, and frankly, she didn’t care all that much to know. As it had twice before, Myrina’s world changed that day. She was reborn into a world that she never wished to know, a world without her mother.

       The words upon her mother’s headstone were words that would stay with her for the rest of her life - words that would permanently shape her into a person that she could be proud of, a person that her mother could be proud of.

_        With love, we have everything. _

       “So what’ll it be, Miss Picquery?” asked Professor Slughorn, walking around his office aimlessly. He didn’t expect much from Myrina Picquery. She was a good student, of course, but the witch was nothing extraordinary in Slughorn’s definition of the term. “Healer? Store Keeper? Ministry Worker?”

       “I’d like to be an Unspeakable.”

       As the professor stopped his pacing, the sand in his hourglass also seemed to come to a standstill. 

       Professor Slughorn held eye contact with his student for what felt like the first time in their meeting, and he began to take an interest in the witch, thinking that he might even have room for her in his Slug Club. “Is that so? Have you put much thought into this, Miss Picquery? Do you know, for example, which division you’d like to be a part of?”

       “I’ve done a fair amount of research, Professor,” Myrina answered, holding back a smile. “I’ve known what division I wanted to be a part of since I was twelve, sir.”

       “And what division is that, my dear?”

       “Love.”


End file.
